Toothless’ Story Part IV

And now the one with Astrid and Toothless’ snarky opinions on the subject. OH, YES.

                His boy came constantly in the afternoons. Hiccup would play with Toothless and fly with him and things would be carefree and happy for a while. However, one day his boy didn’t show up until late, and he carried a pack. That was one odd thing. The other odd thing was that a girl was there too. His human seemed scared.

                The girl screamed when she saw him. The girl ran back to the village, and Toothless knew that his boy would be in danger if the Vikings knew. He snatched up Hiccup and ran after the girl. When they caught the girl, he threw her into the branches off a pine tree. He sensed that Hiccup wouldn’t have let him just drop the girl (stupid humans and their stupid hormones.) His boy helped the girl onto his back. Toothless didn’t like it.

                “Toothless, we need her to like us!” Hiccup yelled at him.

                OR we could just toss her in the ocean. You know. Just a vague idea.

                “He’s usually not like this!” His boy told the girl.

                You bet. Because a little girl is endangering MY human.

                “And now the spinning.” Hiccup commented. “Thank you for nothing, you useless reptile.”

                Thank you for nothing, you hormone-ridden human.

                “I’m sorry!” The girl yelled. Toothless stopped. He hadn’t exactly expected another human to apologize to him. Hiccup guided him upwards, gently. Soaring up in the clouds, he heard the girl’s soft laughter, and sensed that this made Hiccup happy.

                Hiccup was smiling too, and that made Toothless happy. Gliding through the night, however, the dragons came, dragging in their catch, drawing him back to the nest. To the great dragon. To the Red Death. Sweet Alphas, he didn’t want Hiccup to see that. It wasn’t like he had a choice though.

                He heard the girl ask Hiccup what was happening, and heard the fear in Hiccup’s reply. They were frightened. He didn’t want them to be frightened, but they should be frightened. It was the only way to make sure they would not try coming here again.

                Toothless crouched in the corner of the nest, watching as the queen rose, devouring the other dragon. He saw her eyes narrow.

                “We have to get out of here, bud. Now!” Hiccup shouted, and Toothless leapt into the air. For an instant, fear consumed him. Then they were free in the night.

                When they arrived back, the human girl was talking about the queen and the nest and saying how they had to tell the chief. Toothless tensed when Hiccup disagreed.

                When the girl used the words, ‘to protect your pet dragon,’ Toothless felt fear. Then; “Yes.” Hiccup’s voice was the most determined Toothless had ever heard it. It was stubborn and strong, and everything Hiccup would one day be.

                “Okay.” The girl’s voice held surprise. “What now?” Astrid asked.

                “I’ll figure out something.” Hiccup said.

                “That’s for kidnapping me.” The girl said, punching Hiccup in the arm. Toothless was sort of glad Astrid blamed Hiccup for that and not him. “That’s for—everything else.” Astrid kissed Hiccup’s cheek.

                Toothless couldn’t help laughing to himself.

                “What are you looking at?” Hiccup asked Toothless defensively as Astrid ran off into the night.

I know. I need to rewrite this one. I see a couple of problems in it, and it is sorta stilted. I’ll write a second draft, I promise.

Anyway, God Bless you all, and happy All Hallow’s Eve!


Because Writefury tagged me…

Okay. I’ll do the second one, I guess. I have never done one of these things before… And I literally do not know who to tag, but we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. XD


  • Thank the blogger who nominated you. (Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Writefury, you are amazing.)
  • Answer the ten questions asked.
  • Add ten (writing or book related) questions of your own.
  • Nominate people.
  1. Which character of yours would you get along with best?

Oooo boy. Tough question. It would probably depend on my mood. I would get along with Elan on one of my better, more philosophical days. I might end up yelling at her, though. I’d probably love Elyra (not me, the character that name comes from) on one of the more sarcastic days…

I love all my characters. For all around fun? I’d probably get along best with either Brynn or Sparrow (one of my other newer characters.) Sparrow is amazingly wise. She’d be great for terrible days when I just want to yell at the world. She’d be nice for thinking about stuff, and talking to. Brynn wouldn’t put up with any of my nonsense. She wouldn’t let me sulk. She’d rile me up till I took a swing at her… And after I’d been thoroughly tired out, she’d suggest going out fencing. She’d make sure all my work got done… Actually, I wish Brynn were my muse.

(If that answers the question at all…)

2.Which character would you get along with worst?

Oh my goodness. Even tougher. Let me think… Good grief this is hard. I write characters that are mostly like people in my frame of reference. I think the hardest one of my heroes for me to get along with would be Brice Woodrow. He… Is hard to describe. He’s nice… He’s really nice, actually… But I’m not sure we would get along. Siri Katana, the main and narrator character of the story he lives in, hates him. (At first.) They meet, they acknowledge each other as good people, and they hate each other.

3. How does music apply to your writing?

Music both inspires me and is necessary for me. I listen to music all the time. I sing. I play it to block out other people when I’m writing. I’ll hear a sad song and need to write afterwards…

4. Your opinion on NaNoWriMo?

It’s a really great resource. It got me moving on a novel that deserves to be written and might have gone unwritten if not. I’d say it’s worth the time and effort to participate.

5. Who would you call the biggest fans of your writing.

  1. Mom.
  2. My completely amazing best friend.
  3. One of the people I babysit for.

6. Do you like writing description or dialog better?

It depends on which story I’m writing for. I think I might like writing description a bit better. After all, according to Talleyrand, “Speech was given to man to conceal his thoughts.” What the character says and what the character is thinking are two entirely different things.

7. What font do you write in?

Whichever one I fancy. I choose a different one for almost every story, but I am particularly fond of Cambria Heading.

8. Do you snack while you’re writing?

Almost never. I drink tea while I’m writing, though.

9. Computer in your lap or on a desk?


10. If your projects were your kids, what would those kids be like?

Unbelievably unruly temperamental teenagers. They simply won’t obey orders.



MY Questions:

  1. What book inspires you the most, writing-wise or life-wise?
  2. While writing, do you drink tea, coffee, cocoa, or nothing?
  3. Which project eats the most time?
  4. Who is your favorite character you created yourself?
  5. Why do you write?
  6. How do you write? Do you plot everything out or let your characters do precisely as they please?
  7. When is your favorite time of day to write?
  8. Where is your favorite place to write?
  9. Do you listen to music while writing? If yes, what is your favorite song to listen to?
  10. Did you notice I used all the 5 ws and the h? (If you don’t know what that means, it means all the interrogative pronouns; who, what, where, when, why, and how.)
  11. No more questions. Love ya’all and God bless. Bye!

Toothless’ Story Part III

I have an important announcement. I AM NOT DEAD. I haven’t had access to the computer in a while because of my little sister.*Hugs her because she’s adorable.*

I also wanted to show you something funny that’s written on the inside of Dove chocolates.


It’s a paradox!

Anyway, enjoy.

Again, spoiler warning to anyone who hasn’t watched How To Train Your Dragon.

Over the next few days, the boy became a fixture, even mounting the dragon and riding on him. The boy had a name. Hiccup. The dragon thought the name was funny, but oddly, it suited the boy. Hiccup named him too. He called the dragon Toothless. Toothless found the name growing on him, just as the boy was.

Eventually, Hiccup created a saddle. The plus side of this was that whenever the boy tried to put something new on Toothless, he brought fish. Fish were delicious, and the boy never brought him eels again. That was what was nice about Hiccup. He never made the same mistakes twice. Toothless liked that.

This time, when they flew, they flew without tethers, and the boy kept chunnering on about positions. Toothless secretly liked the boy’s voice. However, the boy kept making mistakes, and mistakes meant crashes and crashes hurt, so Toothless slapped the boy with his ear.

They flew upwards, both of them filled with joy, then suddenly something went wrong and the boy was off his back and they were falling. Wind noise filled Toothless’ ears, and he panicked, but at last the boy was on his back again. It was a long minute before they pulled up, though. Then, they were racing through the rock formations, and there was no fear, no darkness, nothing but flight and wind and boy and dragon.

It had been so long since Toothless had flown. It felt like freedom and light, but oddly, he liked that Hiccup was with him. That his boy was with him.

Like it? Hate it? Next up; the flight with Astrid. OH, yes.

God bless.

On how awful procrastination is…

Writing+Procrastination=My awesome bestie yelling that I left her in suspense. But seriously. It is so easy to procrastinate. I get writers block on one story, start with ten more story ideas, realize that nine of them are trash, realize that I haven’t worked on this one in a month, or that one in three, realize that I’m behind in school, have to go to dance for another two hours and lose two hours of writing time and relaxation, have to babysit on Sundays… Yeah. That’s pretty much my life right now. Along with taking the ACTs and SATs this December. I have got a lot to do.

But I’m sorry, my dear friend: this post is not to tell you that I have mended my ways. Quite the contrary. I had another story idea. I’m sooooo sorry. I really can’t help myself.

In other matters, I wrote another poem. In other, other matters, I get to sing a really fun round in choir this Sunday. Awesome! *Cues applause track.*

Procrastination is hideous.

Plot bunnies are despicable.

I need twelve more hours of sleep.

How’s your day going?
God bless!

Because people are amazing…

I am posting this because people are amazing. Specifically, a fifteen year old boy I have never met is amazing. I do not have a profile on the web-site fanfiction. That means I have to repost this boy’s amazing rant to my blog. I have to say, when I accidentally clicked on his profile, I never expected to be inspired like this, but God works in mysterious ways.

This boy understands my faith and my belief better than some other Catholics I have met do. This boy posted an entire post about God, rationality, common sense and being kind on his profile, knowing that many people would not ever see it, knowing that many people would think he was an idiot for writing it, knowing that he would be condemned for what he wrote. He wrote it anyway, and I am reposting it because I think he is amazing. This is going to be a historically long post, but stay with me if you believe in God, or believe in somebody else who believes in God.

The first part is funny, then it gets serious. Here goes. I’ll underline my personal additions.

Copy and paste this if you love cookies, waffles, and cake.

98% of the world would have a breakdown if Justin Beiber was on the top of the Eiffel Tower saying he’s gonna jump. Post this if you’re part of the two percent sitting in the front, eating popcorn while yelling, “Do a flip!” (Just so you know, if it was me, I’d be saying, “For the LOVE of THOR, get a grip.”)

Copy and paste this if Pikachu has lost weight since 1998. Because obviously he has.

Copy and paste this if YOU BELIEVE YOU CAN FLY!

If you’re one of those people who get excited when you see just two reviews (comments) in your email, paste this into your profile.

If you ever wished you could live in a story, copy and paste this to your profile.

If you have ever wanted to SLAP someone, (Hilary Clinton and Donald Trump during the presidential debate for example…) copy this to your profile.

If you actually take the time to read other people’s profiles, copy this to yours.

If you’ve ever had a mad laughing fit for no reason, copy and paste this to your profile.

If you’re ever asked a really stupid, obvious question, copy and paste this into your profile.

If you ever forgot what you were talking about in a conversation, copy and paste this to your profile.

If you hate those obnoxious, snobby people, PLEASE copy this into your profile.

If you hate girly-girls or people who think that they are everything, copy and paste this into your profile. (Second one. First, just be who you are.)

If you are a nerd and proud of it, copy and paste this into your profile.

If you love writing, copy and paste this into your profile.

only fteefin prenect of poelpe can raed this. If you are one fo taht prenect, spoy and pstae this into your profile. (I loved this one.)

98% of the internet population has a Myspace. If you are one of the 2% that can resist stupid fads, copy and paste this into your profile.

If you like reading fics, copy and paste this into your profile.

If you think Barbie should dump Ken and marry G.I. Joe, copy and paste this into your profile. (Grow a Backbone, Barbie!)

School: 1953 vs. 2013

Scenario: Jack goes hunting rabbit before school, pulls into school parking lot with a rifle in the gun rack.

1953: Vice Principal comes over, looks at Jack’s rifle, goes to his car and gets his own rifle and chats with Jack about guns.

2013: School goes into lock down, Star Force called, Jack hauled off to jail and never sees his ute or gun again. Counselors called in for traumatized students and teachers.

Scenario: Johnny and Mark get into a fistfight after school.

1953: Crowd gathers. Mark wins. Johnny and Mark shake hands and end up buddies.

2013: Police called, SWAT team arrives, arrests Johnny and Mark. Charge them with assault and both are expelled even though Johnny started it.

Scenario: Robbie won’t be still in class, disrupts other students studies.

1953: Robbie gets sent to the office and given six of the best by the Principal. REturns to class and does not disrupt class again.

2013: Robbie given huge doses of Ritalin. Becomes a zombie. Tested for ADHD. School gets extra money from state because Robbie has a disability.

Scenario: Billy breaks a window in his neighbor’s car and his Dad gives him a whipping with his belt.

1953: Billy is more careful next time, goes to college, lives a normal life, and becomes a successful businessman.

2013: Billy’s Dad is arrested for child abuse. Billy removed to foster care and joins a gang. State psychologist tells Billy’s sister that he remembers being abused himself and their Dad goes to prison. Billy’s mom has an affair with the psychologist.

Scenario: Mark gets a headache and takes some aspirin to school.

1953: Mark gets a glass of water from the principal to take the aspirin with.

2013: Police called, Mark expelled for drug violations. Car searched for drugs and weapons.

Scenario: Pedro fails high school English.

1953: Pedro goes to summer school, passes English and goes to college.

2013:Pedro’s cause is taken up by state. Newspaper articles appear nationally explaining that teaching English as a requirement for graduation is racist. AFRE files class action lawsuit against state school system and Pedro’s English teacher. English banned from core curriculum. Pedro given diploma anyway but ends up mowing lawns for a living because he cannot speak English.

Scenario: Johnny takes apart leftover firecrackers from 4th of July, puts them in a model airplane paint bottle, blows up bull-ant nest.

1953: Ants die.

2013: Star Force, Federal Police and Anti Terrorism Squad called. Johnny charged with domestic terrorism, Feds investigate parents, siblings removed from home, computers confiscated, Johnny’s Dad goes on a terror watch list and is never allowed to fly again.

Scenario: Johnny falls while running during recess and scrapes his knee.He is found crying by his teacher, Mary, who hugs him to comfort him.

1953: Johnny feels better after a minute and goes on playing.

2013: Mary is accused of being a sexual predator, loses her job and faces three years of prison. Johnny goes through five years of therapy.

…What kind of a sick world do we live in?

When you carry a Bible, the devil gets a head ache.

When you open it, he collapses.

When he sees you reading it, he faints.

When he sees you living it, he flees.

And just when you’re about to re-post this, he will try to discourage you.

I just defeated him.

Like, Copy, and Paste this if you’re in God’s army.

A science professor begins his school year with a lecture to the students: “Let me explain the problem science has with religion.”

The atheist professor of philosophy pauses before his class and then asks one of his new students to stand.

“You’re a Christian, aren’t you, son?”

“Yes sir.” The student says.

“So you believe in God?”


“Is God good?”

“Sure! God’s good.”

“Is God all powerful? Can God do anything?”


Now the professor asks, “Are you good or evil?”

“The Bible says I’m evil,” replies the student.

The professor grins knowingly.

“Aha! The Bible!” He considers for a moment. “Here’s one for you. Let’s say there’s a sick person over here and you can cure him. You can do it. Would you help him? Would you try?”

“Yes, sir, I would.”

“So you’re good…!”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“But why not say that? You’d help a sick and maimed person if you could. Most of us would if we could. But God doesn’t.”

The student does not answer, so the professor continues. “He doesn’t, does he? My brother was a Christian who died of cancer, even though he prayed to Jesus to heal him> How is this Jesus good? Hmmm? Can you answer that one?”

The student remains silent.

 “No, you can’t, can you?” The professor says. He takes a sip of water from a glass on his desk to give his student time to relax.

“Let’s start again, young fella. Is God good?”

“Er… yes.” the student says.

“Is Satan good?”

The student doesn’t hesitate on this one. “No.”

“Then where does Satan come from?”

The student falters. “From God,” he answers after a few moments.

“That’s right. God made Satan, didn’t he? Is there evil in this world?”

“Yes sir.”

“Evil’s everywhere, isn’t it? And God did make everything, correct?”


“So who created evil?” The professor continued, “If God created everything, then God created evil, since evil exists, and according to the principle that our works define who we are, then God is evil.”

Again, the student has no answer. “Is there sickness? Mortality? Hatred? Ugliness? All these terrible things, do they exist in the world?”

The student squirms on his feet. “Yes.”

“So who created them?”

The student does not answer again, so the professor repeats the question. “Who created them?” There is still no answer. Suddenly, the lecturer breaks away to pace in front of the classroom. The class is mesmerized. “Tell me,” He continues on to another student. “Do you believe in Jesus Christ, son?”

The student’s voice betrays him and cracks. “Yes, professor, I do.”

The old man stops pacing. “Science says you have five senses you use to identify and observe the world around you. Have you ever seen Jesus?”

“No, sir, I have never seen Him.”

“Then tell us if you’ve ever heard your Jesus?”

“No, sir, I have not.”

“Have you ever felt your Jesus, tasted your Jesus or smelt your Jesus? Have you ever had any sensory perception of Jesus Christ, or God for that matter?”

“No, sir, I’m afraid I haven’t.”

“Yet you still believe in him?”


“According to the rules of empirical, testable, demonstrable protocol, science says your God does not exist. What do you say to that, son?”

“Nothing.” The student replies. “I have only my faith.”

“Yes, faith,” the professor repeats. “And that is the problem science has with God. There is no evidence, only faith.”

The student stands quietly for a moment, before asking a question of his own. “Professor, is there such a thing as heat?”

“Yes,” The professor replies. “There’s heat.”

“And is there such a thing as cold?”

“Yes, son, there’s cold too.”

“No, sir, there isn’t.”

The professor turns to face the student, obviously interested. The room suddenly becomes very quiet. The student begins to explain. “You can have lots of heat, even more heat, super-heat, mega-heat, unlimited heat, white heat, little heat or no heat, but we don’t have anything called ‘cold.’ We can hit up to 458 degrees below zero, which is no heat, but we can’t go any further after that. There is no such thing as cold; otherwise we would be able to go colder than the lowest, minus 458 degrees.

“Every body or object is susceptible to study when it has or transmits energy, and heat is what makes a body or matter have or transmit energy. Absolute zero is the total absence of heat. You see sir, cold is only a word that we use to describe the absence of heat. We cannot measure cold. Heat we can measure in thermal units because heat is energy. Cold is not the opposite of heat, sir, just the absence of it.”

Silence across the room. A pen drops somewhere in the classroom, sounding like a hammer.

 “What about darkness, professor? Is there such a thing as darkness?”

“Yes,” the professor  replies without hesitation. “What is night if it isn’t darkness?”

“You’re wrong again, sir. Darkness is not something; it is the absence of something. You can have low light, normal light, bright light, flashing light, but if you have no light constantly you have nothing and it’s called darkness, isn’t it? That’s the meaning we use to define the word.

“In reality, darkness isn’t. If it were, you would be able to make darkness darker, wouldn’t you?”

The professor begins to smile at the student in front of him. This will be a good semester. “So what point are you making, young man?”

“Yes, professor. My point is, your philosophical premise is flawed to start qith, and so your conclusion must also be flawed.”

The professor’s face cannot hide his surprise this time. “Flawed? Can you explain how?”

“You are working on the premise of duality.” The student explains. “You argue that there is life and then there’s death; a good God and a bad God. You are viewing the concept of God as something finite, something we can measure.

“Sir, science can’t explain a thought. It uses electricity and magnetism, but has never been seen, much less fully understood either one.To view death as the opposite of life is to be ignorant of the fact that death cannot exist as a substantive thing. Death is not the opposite of life, just the absence of it.

“Now tell me, professor. Do you teach your students that they evolved from a monkey>’

“If you are referring to the natural evolutionary process, young man, then yes, of course I do.”

“Have you ever observed evolution with your own eyes, sir?”

The professor begins to shake his head, still smiling, as he realizes where the argument is going. A very good semester indeed.

“Since no one has ever observed the process of evolution at work and cannot even prove that this process is an ongoing endeavor, are you not teaching your opinion, sir? Are you now not a scientist, but a preacher?”

The class is in uproar. The student remains silent until the commotion has subsided.

“To continue the point you were making to the other student, let me give you an example of what I mean.”

The student looks around the room. “Is there anyone in the class who has ever seen the professor’s brain?” The class breaks out into laughter.

“Is there anyone here who has ever heard the professor’s brain, felt the professor’s brain, touched or smelt the professor’s brain? No one appears to have done so. So, according to the established rules of empirical, stable, demonstrable protocol, science says that you have no brain, with all due respect, sir.

“So if science says you have no brain, how can we trust your lectures, sir?”

Now the room is silent. The professor just stares at the student, his face unreadable.

Finally, after what seems an eternity, the old man answers. “I guess you’ll just have to take them on faith.”

“Now, you accept that there is faith, and, in fact, faith exists with life.” The student continues. “Now sir, is there such a thing as evil?”

Now uncertain, the professor responds, “Of course there is. We see it every day. It is in the daily example of man’s inhumanity to man. It is in the multitude  of crime and violence everywhere in the world. These manifestations are nothing else but evil.”

To this the student replied, “Evil does not exist, sir, or at least it does not exist unto itself. Evil is simply the absence of God. It is just like darkness and cold, a word that man has created to describe the absence of God. God did not create evil. Evil is the result of what happens when a man does not have God’s love present in his heart. It’s like the cold that comes when there is no heat or the darkness that comes when there is no light.”

The professor sat down.

The student’s name was Albert Einstein.

 Yes. Einstein did believe in God. People, uninformed, believe him to be an atheist. He was not.

I cannot copy the entire thing to one blog-post. But go out to his fanfiction account, GameboyNinjaUltimate Icarus. It will be worth all your time to read the page. It talks about man’s inhumanity to man, and you should really visit his page just to read his profile. I will probably never read his writing because he doesn’t write about any of my fandoms. I believe in God.

I believe in Christ.

 I have to post just one more thing from his account. Then, I refer you to read his profile, because it is really inspiring.

Jesus had no servants, yet they called him Master…

He had no degree, yet they called him Teacher…

He had no medicine, yet they called him Healer…

He had no army, yet kings feared Him…

He won no military battles, yet He conquered the world…

He committed no crime, yet they crucified Him…

He was buried in a tomb, yet He lives today

Feel honored to serve such a leader who loves us…

If you believe in the true God, Father, Son and Holy ghost

then copy and paste this to your profile.

Did you know that 98 % of teenagers will not stand up for God, and 93% of the people who read this won’t re-post it?

If you ignore him, in the Holy Bible, Jesus says…

 “If you deny me before man, I will deny you before my Father in Heaven…”


I admire this boy, and I have never even met him. May God Bless him.

May God bless you all, whether you believe in him or not.

And if you don’t, then know this: YOU may not believe in GOD but GOD believes in YOU.

Killed in Action

A poem. Just read it. This is dedicated to all the boys that have died for freedom.

Cold lines on paper.


A captain’s signature.

The paper is creased.

It should not hurt anyone.

Paper cannot hurt anyone.


The Captain sighs.

Folds the page.

Pushes it into the envelope.


Someone might write one for him.

The Captain walks around the camp

Watching boys laughing,

Some writing letters

Some crying.

None are impersonal.

All of them care.

He breathes in a deep breath.

Tomorrow, there will be more cold lines on paper

But tomorrow has not come.

So he laughs with his soldiers while he can.

There you go.

If you want to yell at me, I understand. I feel like yelling at me some days too.

God Bless you all and bye.

Toothless’ Story Part II

Alright. You liked the last one? Try this one on for size. Once again, spoilers for How To Train Your Dragon.

The boy came back the next morning. The dragon had had no idea that humans were so stubborn. However, the boy brought fish. The dragon had been unable to catch anything without the use of his wings, and food was food.

“Salmon, haddock, and a whole smoked eel.” The boy rattled in the strange human chatter.

Eel. Oh, sweet seadragonus giganticus maximus, sweet terrible terrors, eel. He growled involuntarily. The boy chattered away as the dragon reared, and threw the eel into the water. Good. The little monster was gone.

That was okay then. He’d eat anything, but not eel. He ate the fish slowly, savoring the taste as they went down.

The boy was doing something strange with his tail. That was odd… It nearly felt like… The dragon’s back arched with realization. There were two halves to his tail again. He hunched, and leapt into the air. He felt the weight of the boy on his tail, but the tail caught the wind and they flew. Then, in annoyance, the dragon chucked the boy away, making sure he would fall in the lake rather than falling to his death. Unfortunately, whatever the boy had done to his tail didn’t work without the boy.

They both ended up in the lake. When he broke surface, the boy was yelling in exhilaration.

So… Did you like it? Did you hate it? I hope you liked it. It’s fun… So.

Feel free to tell me how you feel about this one.

Love you guys!

God Bless! Bye.

Toothless’ Story Part I

Okay, now this. Is beautiful. I love this thing so much. I’ve been working on it for a little while, and I thought you guys might enjoy it. So… I wrote this. This is sort of spoilerish for How to Train Your Dragon, so if you haven’t watched it, you shouldn’t read this. This is part I.

Just read it.

                The human boy was scrawny and little. Crouched down by the edge of the lake, he was scratching at the dirt with a stick. The dragon had never really watched humans much, and all he had seen them do was fight and kill his kind. He had never seen one so reluctant to kill.

He wanted to know what the boy was doing. There was just something about him, and the dragon’s vain attempts to sleep were doomed to failure. Slowly, he walked down to the edge of the lake, dragging his useless wings.

Looking over the boy’s shoulder, he saw an image etched in the turf. It looked like his father, and by extension himself, and suddenly, he realized that the boy posed no threat to him. A curious desire washed over him to make the boy see the same, and he mimicked the boy’s actions. The boy watched him curiously, and when he image was done looked at it in awe. It was perfect.

The boy got up, then stepped on one of the lines. The dragon growled. He hadn’t destroyed the boy’s work. At last, the boy understood, stepping carefully over the lines. The dragon watched the boy in fascination as he stepped through and over. A dragon would have simply taken flight.

Then, the boy was outside the drawing. The dragon had not moved, and suddenly they were very close together. At the dragon’s huff, the boy turned. He extended one hand upward, trying to touch the dragon. Involuntarily, the dragon started to growl, but cut off the sound before it became audible. The boy turned his head away, and closed his eyes. The dragon wanted to roar in surprise. It was not done; closing one’s eyes so close to a fatal enemy. With a flash of comprehension, he realized that the boy trusted him.

The hand was still reaching.

Slowly, indecisively, the dragon brought his head forward. His eyes closed of their own volition. Hand and head touched. The dragon felt the boy’s skin, soft and gentle against his scales. Something warmed the dragon’s insides.

Startled, he drew back, shaking his head to clear it. Then, he left the boy standing by the edge of the lake.

Did you like it? Feel free to comment and tell me.

God Bless you!

Character Voice

In watching Television shows and reading books, there is almost always a different style to each author or writer’s work. You can identify the author by the use of the language, sometimes, but that isn’t the only difference. You might not be able to tell an author’s work at first glance to a new book because of something I like calling character voice. Character voice is the character’s unique way of expressing themselves.

If two of my characters, Eadlin Casper and Elan Snyder, met, it would be easy to tell them apart at once.

If Eadlin quoted Little Women and said, “Let us be elegant or die,”

Elan would be likely to reply, “I’ll take the death, thanks.”

Character voice can also be character voice, such as the voice-overs done in animation.

I noticed the real difference in character voice in movies and in books when I was watching an Anime show called Snow White with the Red Hair. This television series was originally released in Japan, so it was of course in Japanese. When they decided to release it elsewhere, they of course had to dub it (record the same lines) in English.

Listening to the story lines narrated in English, I almost instantly noticed the talent of the actors and that it wasn’t just their ways of expressing themselves that were different, but their voices. Everyone has a different voice, with a different pitch and tone and inflection. Watching this particular show, I noticed it a lot.

One character called Zen is the second prince of Clarines. His voice is entirely different from his aide, Mitsuhede’s, and it’s not because they sound so different, it’s because the inflection is totally different. Mitsuhede speaks with a quieter, more sarcastic inflection, while everything Zen says is princely and gentlemanly. Not to say that he doesn’t joke, because he does, but his voice still retains the authority and grand manner of a royal. I like the way they represented Zen, as a person who could work and be an amazing prince and still have fun and be vulnerable. He’s probably now my ideal prince, along with ErinKenobi’s Rowan.

Now, I noticed that this is different from the way people come across in books. You can’t immediately hear the character voices and inflection the way you could in a television show. However, there is different inflection that can still be passed on through writing.

I noticed this inflection in writing when I was introduced to my two newest characters, who may or may not ever get their whole stories, but either way have taught me a lot. This would be a mother, Cassiopeia, and her daughter, Brynn. The fact is that the things they say are sometimes similar, as sometimes a mother and daughter share opinions. However, the way they say and do things are totally different.

Cassiopeia has a righteous, valiant, heroic character voice, which paints the world all in black and white. She was raised with ideals and she wants only righteousness. Cass has trouble with trust sometimes, and plays around with words; most of the time though, she is quite straightforward.

Brynn, on the other hand, has an almost anti-hero character voice, edged in darkness and light and sarcasm. She’s quieter, with a more understanding way of viewing the world since she was broken into seeing darkness so young. She believes in definite right and wrong, but she understands how people would see “gray areas.” Her character voice is almost brutal, gritty, compassionate, and rougher. You’d never know what she’s hiding.

You can instantly see the difference between them.

“I’m not having my sister offer herself up like a sacrificial lamb like I can’t take care of myself! If I weren’t here, she’d never accept!”–Cass.

“It’s not like it matters, Mom. She doesn’t want me here, I know. I’ll just–go now. I love you.”–Brynn.

Cass fights for herself, and doesn’t want handouts. Brynn fights for others, and doesn’t care so long as it’s for someone else. If it were for her, she’d refuse any favors. Cass believes in showing her feelings. Brynn doesn’t put hers on display.

I’ve never invented cookie cutter characters. I can always tell them apart almost instantly. Sure, they are made to be heroes, but they aren’t the same types of heroes. Every character has their own voice. It just needs to be found.

Character voice is a great tool for writing.

When the War is over…

This is a poem I wrote. It’s sort of sad, but it’s got a lot of hope too. It’s about the “Heroes'” feelings at the end of a war. So few authors portray the feelings perfectly. I just hope I did them justice here.

When the War is over…


All is ending.

The war has ended.

So we stand here.

This hill… Always this hill.

Waiting for the dawn.

My hand and your hand, gripping each other, holding fast.

The sky begins to lighten.

The blood on your face is not yet discernibly red.

It is only dark.

Darkness never hurt anyone.

I am tired.

I hear a woman crying.

I cannot cry.

Not now.

It does not hurt.

I turn to you, and your arms wrap strong around me.

I reach up, gingerly; to touch the cut you received.

You look down at me.

The sky is waking up.

I am not afraid.

I am not in pain, even though I am wounded.

“It’s over.”

Your voice is raspy.


I say.

Because it is.

The world has been washed in blood.

And the edge of sun rays peer over the horizon.

“You saved the world.”

You say.

It is quiet for a long, long time.

“We saved the world,”

Is how I respond at last.

Suddenly, I am no longer guilty.

I am crediting those who died.

“They did more than I did.”

I admit.

“I doubt that. You were the flame, they were the torches.

You began what they could not alone.”

You tell me.

Your lips press against my forehead.

The sun is over the hill now.

The sky is not dark.

Not red.

It is soft.

Blue and white and amethyst and palest ruby.

I am not angry, any more.

“I wasn’t a hero.”

I tell you.

You are the only one who would understand that.

You are quiet for a time.

“Perhaps not,” You reply.

“But none of us are heroes, in the end.

Heroes have no need for rules.

Good men have no need for boundaries.

But you tried.

That is all anyone can ever do in the end.”

I am silent.

There is nothing to say.

There is no way to thank you for staying.

“I love you.”

I whisper, though it is not enough.

And there, on the hill where our village burned, where our lives played out

Where the war ended

I am at peace.